


First Dates: Green Vault

by Solarsearcher



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mind Control, Pheromones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solarsearcher/pseuds/Solarsearcher
Summary: Batman arrives to discover a bank robbery in progress.





	First Dates: Green Vault

**Author's Note:**

> First impressions are important when establishing a long relationship.

He pressed his hand against the glass of the skylight, looking down into the building below. Gotham First National Bank, a grand structure with a large lobby, lay below him, several men roving through the area with quickened gaits. It was close to eleven on this Saturday night, well outside of bank operating hours. Given that, and the fact that- despite the lights inside being in use- almost each man carried a flashlight, he could safely assume that they were not there to make a deposit.

“I’m here, Alfred,” Batman informed, raising his other hand to his ear. “The tip was good.”

“Unfortunate, considering the result,” Alfred said back over the radio. The communicator device in Bruce’s ear shifted under the pressure from his fingers, placing the device further into his lobe so that he could better hear. “I was hoping for a quiet evening.”

“Any word on who gave the tip?” Batman asked. He had come here based off of a nameless source who had told Gordon of a potential bank robbery in two weeks. Not wanting to tip off any criminals early, he had asked Batman not thirty minutes ago to see if he could find anyone casing the building ahead of the allotted time.

“No, sir. His identity remains anonymous for now.”

He grunted. “Keep trying. I’m going to see what we’re dealing with.”

“Yes, sir.” Alfred switched off the speaker on his end of the line.

Bruce took his hand down from his ear and lowered it to his gauntlet, activating his detective vision. The colors of the world around him shifted, becoming darker and allowing him to better focus on the people inside.

He counted the humanoid heat signatures roving around the rooms, a difficult task considering their speed. There appeared to be twenty men in the main lobby, but his distance kept him from being able to see into all of the rooms.

The bank had only two floors, but almost everything was on the ground level. Only the bank manager’s office and a pair of restrooms were on the second floor. Nobody appeared to be in either, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of someone being in there. Everyone appeared to be congregated in the lobby and the security box sections.

Notably, none of the people he could see appeared to be armed. There were no sidearms strapped to their sides nor did he see any knives in their hands. His specialized vision had a detector meant to scan for and identify any hazardous materials or dangerous weapons. Yet, as he looked around at the criminals he could spot, his detective vision could see neither of each.

They were all actively scanning the environment with their flashlights, seemingly oblivious to the lights that were on above their heads. In fact, many of them were pointing their flashlights up at the ceiling in coordinated patterns. Their light beams crossed paths many times as the robbers circled around each other and the various rooms of the building.

 _They’re expecting me,_ Batman thought. As he noticed their patterns, he also noticed that none of them seemed to be looting the bank either. They seemed to be singularly focused on patrolling the bank. It was possible that this was a test run at infiltration, but he feared that they weren’t interested in actually robbing the bank. More likely, they wanted to lure him into a trap of some sort. 

He removed his hand from the skylight pane and deactivated his detective vision, getting a second look at the bank with his own eyes. Upon a second glance, he absorbed in the layout of the bank. Near the main entrance of the building, the lobby extended all the way to the walls. A large, squared table sat in the center of the lobby, a receptionist’s workstation built to administrate bank visitors all around the table. 

Beyond that, there were two rooms at the opposite side of the building from the entrance with security boxes held in the center. Bruce didn’t personally have any money in this bank, but he guessed that these rooms would be the bank’s reserves, holding much of the wealth. Normally, there would be a locked gate between these reserves and the lobby, but these gates had seemingly been opened by use of force, several steel locks around the floor nearby. Without weapons, it was probable that the locks had been picked rather than broken. 

Finally, there was the vault, pressed into a tight corner of the walls. The door was spotless, not a single smudge or scratch to indicate any attempt to enter. It was way too far out of range for his detective vision to catch, but it was almost certainly secure. 

“Alfred,” Batman said, bringing his hand back up to his ear.

“Yes, sir?”

“Anything to report?”

“Not yet. The police haven’t had any leads… and neither do I, sir.” Alfred paused. “Are you thinking that the informant is a co-conspirator?”

“Or the informant was supposed to tip us off,” Bruce mused. “It doesn’t look like they’re actually robbing the bank. They’re just walking around, looking for me.”

“Then perhaps you won’t need to take them down. Shall I call the police to round them up?”

“Not yet, Alfred. If they’re planning a trap, the police may get hurt.” He turned on his detective vision again. “They don’t look armed, but there’s no telling what they’re planning. I’m going to deal with this myself.”

“I suppose that would be best,” Alfred replied hesitantly. “Very well. I will wait for your word to tell Commissioner Gordon.”

“They seem to be anticipating me coming at them from above,” Batman observed. The refracted light inside the bank would make it impossible for them to see him through the skylight, but the cover would vanish once he made his entrance. “I’m going to need another way inside.”

“I can try to find you one,” the radio transmitted. “Do you have any preference?”

“Something quick,” Bruce answered. He switched off his detective vision again and searched for a route inside on the rooftop.

“Let’s see,” Alfred said slowly. “We have a couple of options.” An image of the bank’s schematics appeared on Bruce’s gauntlet. “The air ducts could get you inside without being seen, and there is a vent that would put you in the manager’s office.”

“They’re watching for an attack from above, Alfred. I need an insertion at the ground floor.” One of the flashlights below shined over the skylight. Batman stared back at the man holding it until the beam moved along. No alarm had been raised.

“Have you considered strolling in through the front door?”

“Not seriously.”

“Well, there is a way in through a side entrance. It’s not much different from the front door.” Alfred pulled a red arrow over the display on his gauntlet to point at a door at leading from the bank to the alley on the northern end of the building. “It’s an employee-only door, though I doubt the employees would mind you entering to stop the bank from being robbed.”

“I don’t think there was ever any intention to rob the bank,” Batman said, standing up straight and walking from the skylight to the northern edge of the roof. “But I intend to find out what it is they want.”

“The door may be locked, sir.”

Batman leapt from the ledge, falling feet-first to the pavement below. The wind whipped his cape back and forth, blowing it up above him until he grabbed its threads and spread them wide. The wind picked him up and slowed his descent just in time, allowing him to hit the ground in a crouch and not hurt himself in anyway. The door Alfred had pointed him towards was closed just behind him.

He extracted a Batarang from his utility belt. “Luckily,” Batman said, “I’ve got a key.” Walking over to the door, he erased the building schematics image from his gauntlet to turn its light off. 

Batman reached the door and stabbed the handle at a downward angle, wedging it between the knob and the door frame. After some aggressive shaking of the knob, the lock inside shifted, turning over to unlock the door.

Taking a breath, he returned the Batarang to his belt. “I’m going in.”

“Good luck, sir,” Alfred replied.

He pulled the door open and slipped inside, shutting the door quickly to prevent the wind from unsettling the people inside. 

Though it turned out, he didn’t need to worry; the alley entrance had led him into a separate room from the lobby. This was a small maintenance room and supply closet of sorts, with a combination of cleaning supplies, mechanical hardware and bank property in designated areas around the room. The door to bridging the small room to the lobby lay closed to his left. Fortunately, they had left the lights off in this small closet.

It put him on edge. If he hadn’t been worried about a trap before, he was now. How could these would-be robbers possibly leave such an obvious security flaw into the bank for him to enter through? A darkened area with access to the utilities of the entire building? It seemed almost too easy.

Anxious, he crouched low and turned on his detective vision again, scanning the room once more to verify that nobody was waiting for him in the closet. After two sweeps of the room, he found no evidence of any prowlers spying on him. 

Stunned, Batman activated his radio again, if just to make sure that his tech was still working. “Alfred?” he asked. “Are you there?”

“Of course I’m here, sir,” the butler replied. “Where else would I be on a Saturday night like this?”

“Is there any chatter on the police radio?” Bruce demanded. “Is this bank hit just a diversion of some sort?”

“A diversion?” Alfred asked incredulously. “A diversion from what? The tip said that they would be coming in two weeks.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered curtly. He moved over to the far wall, discovering a couple of power boxes and switches. Most of them were active, not having been interfered with by the intruders in the lobby. “These guys aren’t robbing the bank and they’re waiting for me.”

“Sir?” 

“They left this entrance uncovered on purpose.” He placed a small, black current controlling disc on top of the circuit breaker that supplied power to all of the building’s electrical systems. “Confirm hack on your end.”

“Confirmed,” Alfred returned. The disc ahead of him flashed red. “The bank’s power system is yours.”

“Time for a test,” Batman said. 

He switched off his detective vision and stalked out of the closet and back into the alley. Nobody waited for him in an ambush beyond the door. Looking up to the roof of the bank, he fired his grapnel gun and flew up over the ledge. He landed in a pace, not breaking stride as he returned to the skylight and looked down inside of the lobby.

The intruders seemed to be behaving exactly as they were a few moments ago. If they had been aware of his entry, they gave no indication.

“In position: flickering the lights,” he informed. He activated his gauntlet’s reader of the disc. Several bars indicating the power output to each of the bank’s systems displayed. He placed a finger on the bar marked for the main lights and quickly shifted it to its “off” setting before resetting it to where it had been before.

The criminals reacted immediately to the flickering lights, all flinching and going on alert. Quickly, they recovered and began moving. The majority of them clustered up around the receptionist desk in the lobby, rapidly shifting their flashlight beams. Two of them made their way over to the vault, putting their backs to the steel and pointing their flashlights directly ahead of them, even with the lights to the bank still brightly shining above them. It seemed that their flashlight patterns were in anticipation of him turning out the lights, hence their sudden and practiced reaction to the slightest of light failures. 

One of the two men guarding the vault raised his palm in front of the door and held it there. Batman focused on him, watching to see what he would do next.

He waited, minutes passing by as the raised hand remained still before the steel. Batman could be patient, allowing time to become his weapon when it suited him.

Eventually, following several more minutes of silence, the man lowered his hand back to his side. Then, he gestured to the group surrounding the desk, directing them in a wide circle around the room. The men all broke off into jointed groups, who subsequently broke off into pairs and then returned to the general locations they were designated. 

Well-disciplined, Bruce thought. But why no guns?

He could be reasonably certain of two things with this group; the man who had given the signals was probably in charge of these men, and whatever was hidden behind that vault door was part of their trap for him. It would be best if he could neutralize the two men who ran to the vault first so that the rest of them would have to fight past him to get to it.

“Did you get a good look, Alfred?” Batman asked.

“I did, sir.” A playback began on his gauntlet, taken from a camera within the bank that shot a video in black and white. “They entered into a formation within seconds, not even talking to coordinate their movements. One wonders if they are part of a dancing troupe.”

“I’d be more than willing to get them matching jumpsuits,” he responded dryly. “The two that ran to the vault are probably going to do the same when I make my entrance. Can you track them?”

“Certainly.” A few moments later, two black and white images appeared on his gauntlet depicting the faces of the patrollers in question. The images shrunk and retreated into the corner as a live video feed of the bank’s cameras cycled until they found them both. Black dots replaced their locations temporarily before fading back to their moving figures.

“Let’s see,” Bruce grunted. “One of them is spending most of his time near the staircase to the upper floor. The other is guarding the thruway between the lobby and the tellers’ stations.”

“No priors that I can see for either one of them,” Alfred said. “This may be their first time breaking into a bank.”

“That’s what I guessed,” Batman stated. “How about the others? Anyone I can interrogate for answers?”

“Master Bruce, this is rather peculiar,” Alfred announced. “I can find absolutely nothing connecting these two men. One is a stockbroker and the other is a local pharmacy aide. They have no mutual acquaintances that I can find.”

“How about the others?”

“Only a few of them know each other,” Alfred said vaguely. “A few work colleagues are here, but none of none of them have any links to more than one other person in the bank.” He paused. “In fact, none of these people have had any business with Gotham First in the past. I can’t find anything to suggest that these men have been conspiring for a time.”

“This could be a sort of initiation for them,” he mused. “Keep digging; there might be a deeper connection related to the way that they have practiced routines. Some of them might be ex-military or law enforcement.”

“Master Bruce, some of the men here have been reported missing by their families for weeks.”

Bruce activated his detective vision and took note of the locations of the two men he would be targeting first. The black dots returned for a quick scan before vanishing again. “Perhaps they were hired by someone looking for random accomplices for a job like this.”

“And the practiced patterns?”

“I don’t know.” He deactivated the special lenses on his cowl once more and returned his gauntlet to the camera feeds. “They may have been spending a long time preparing for something like this. Training to fight me.”

“Should I call for the police now?”

“Not yet. Keep monitoring for activity elsewhere.”

“Yes, sir.” The speaker switched off once again.

Batman set his gauntlet to the systems control, placing his finger on the bar maintaining the lights. He swiped it down to recast darkness upon the bank lobby and back up to return the lights to normal. The men inside reacted as they had before, hastily forming up to prepare for a fight, with the same two men placing themselves before the vault. Following a few minutes of nothing- though not as long as the previous instance of waiting- the same man gestured for everyone to return to normal activities.

“Here we go,” he said to himself, rising to his feet. He threw himself off of the nearest ledge and fell the distance to the ground.

Batman landed in a cape flurry at the main entrance of the bank. He figured that if they expected him to either come in from above or from the closet, he might be able to surprise them by just waltzing in through the front.

He flickered the lights on inside once again. Using his detective vision, he could see that the men weren’t rushing to form up again. Instead, one of them broke off from his established pattern and ran to the maintenance closet to investigate. The rest of them kept patrolling the area.

Once the criminal arrived in the closet, he rushed over to the circuit breaker, looking to see if something had happened to it.

Batman shut down his connection to the disk attached to the power grid, then placed himself right in front of the door. He watched, analyzing the heat signature in the closet for the proper moment. Shortly thereafter, the man reached out for the machine, perhaps having seen the disc and making an attempt to remove it.

Bruce detonated the device, blowing it up in an electrical burst.

He watched the intruder go rigid as he was zapped by a few hundred volts. When the electricity subsided, he fell over, knocked unconscious by the blast. At the same moment, the circuit box- overloaded by the current- fell apart, turning out the lights inside the bank. The backup generator activated, running auxiliary power to the emergency lights inside. Cries of alarm sounded out from within the bank, the first noises they had made since Bruce had arrived.

Batman deactivated his detective vision and kicked in the large wooden doors.

As he had predicted, the men inside seemed completely surprised by his loud appearance. They tried to adjust, many of them turning around in shock, but only a few were actually in their practiced formation. Some had probably assumed that the lights had been flickering due to power failures.

Batman fired his grapnel gun up to the skylight. The hook shattered the glass, but caught within the frame. As the rope tightened, he tossed a smoke pellet before himself and jumped, allowing the rope to pull him up a few feet. The criminals charged for the smoke, but Batman swung over their heads on his own tether.

Near the end of his momentum, he released the hook from the skylight and continued forward, landing right on top of the man running toward the vault. He fell with a shout, but his cries cut off once his head banged against the floor, putting him out of the fight.

The possible leader of this band was running toward the vault as well, coming from Batman’s left. With one hand, he gripped the grapnel gun and pointed it toward the ceiling. With the other, he leveled the Batclaw at his running foe.

Both devices fired at once, with the hook of the grapnel wrapping around a support beam near one of the chandeliers and the head of the Batclaw grasping the man’s leg. He transferred the line shot from the grapnel to the rope leading to the criminal, the ends snapping together by a magnetic clasp.

The criminal continued his charge, diving in a desperate attempt to grasp his cape before he was abruptly ripped up toward the roof. He flailed, swinging the rope back and forth as he rose feet-first about a meter or two above the ground. He stopped there, his body jerking to a halt.

Loading a fresh line in his Batclaw, Batman fired up to the chandelier nearest to the slowly-dissipating smokescreen by the front entrance. After a good tug, the structure collapsed from its near forty-foot height, dropping all the way to the floor. It crashed with a pronounced clang.

Several men screamed in pain from within the smoke. The flashlights, dimmed by the refractory smoke, shook all around the smoke, more than a few of them spinning around the floor. With a few extra seconds of time before the criminals began attacking him again, Bruce reloaded his grapnel gun with a fresh hook and readied a trio of Batarangs in his off hand.

The smoke cleared from the desk, allowing the cluster there to reaffirm where the vault was. They ran to him, not all of them realizing that he stood between them and their goal.

 _Eighteen guys, no guns, and a base to defend,_ Bruce thought. _Simple enough. Just stay on target._

The first to fall ran right for the vault and never knew Batman was there. Bruce raised his arm and swung it forward in a straight lariat, causing him to slip and kick up as if he had run head-first into a metal bar. 

He spun around, tossing the three Batarangs in an outward motion into the charging crowd. At least one of them found flesh, though the throw had been meant to stall the ones in front more than actually hit them. Luckily, the closest to him flinched backward, causing two of his fellows to crash into him from both sides, sending all three of them stumbling in front of him.

One was low to the ground, keeping himself from falling by holding himself up on his feet with hands against the floor. As he tried to rise, Batman jammed his knee upward into his face. The blow nearly brought him to a standing position, but he immediately toppled over on his front after that.

The other two who had stumbled regained their footing and were joined by a dozen more men, arranging themselves in a shrinking half-circle around him and the vault. One man in the center tested forward in a feint, trying to give those at the edges cover to get to the handle wheel. 

Bruce fired his Batclaw at one man near the outer edge to his right, pulling someone to within a foot before him in an instant. Slinging his right arm under his target’s chin and around his head, the vigilante jumped, going nearly horizontal in midair as his feet found two men’s faces. The motion had him falling to the floor behind the man whose neck was caught between his forearm and bicep. Just as Bruce’s knee hit the tiled floor, he pulled hard, forcing the man into a spiraling backflip and an inevitable collision with one of his fellows.

Another man, coming from the other edge of the half-circle, tried to attack Batman while he was floored. As he raised his foot to stomp down, Bruce pushed back onto his own shoulders and nipped up, gaining enough height from his jump that he could bring connect both fists in a downward strike to the attacker’s dome.

Stunned, he wobbled in place, nearly buckling one leg before quickly pulling back to his base. He seemed to have no control of his arms.

So Batman grabbed both of them and swung him around in a gaining arc, releasing him in the direction of a man trying to rush for the vault door. They both hit the wall from Bruce’s perverted hammer throw. Then, knowing without having to look, he grabbed a Batarang from his belt and tossed it to the other end of the half-circle. A man who had been trying to sneak through Batman’s defense got hit by one of the blunted portions of the projectile, knocking him back a few paces but not causing any real damage.

A bunch of men suddenly broke ranks and fled from the fight, rushing toward the front exit, leaving only five conscious men to fight him. Bruce allowed them to run; he had a video recording of all of their faces, and their locations could be tracked down later. He had to deal with these five first so that none of them could access the vault…

Bruce spun on his heels, noticing the man who had been flung into the wall trying to crawl toward the vault handle wheel. His leg looked severely disjointed at the knee, but he was still trying to fight. Make that six, then.

One of them tried to strike at Batman from behind. He ducked a punch meant for his head, coming up behind the man. He swung around for a return stroke with his elbow. Bruce ducked this attempt too, countering with a spinning backfist to the man’s gut. He grunted in pain, backing up a step. He tried to bring his knee up into Batman’s face as Batman himself had done to one of his fellows.

Batman grabbed his knee and ankle before it could make contact with his head, then yanked both up into the air. The rest of his body soon followed, allowing Bruce to grab him with both hands and slam him violently into the ground. He went limp, dazed.

The next man to try his luck against the Batman led with his flashlight, one of the few men to still hold one. He swung it from the side, trying to catch Batman in the ribs. Bruce blocked it with his gauntleted arm, then used his free hand to grasp the attacker by the throat. As a second man came up beside Bruce to flank him, he grabbed this man by the throat as well, lifting both of them into the air beside one another. They looked at him desperately, trying to reach for his face and scratching at his arms.

A third man came up between the two choking criminals, kicking at Batman’s legs. With both arms engaged and carrying some extra weight, Bruce couldn’t avoid the attack. His footing fell apart, Batman going down to one knee and returning the two he had choked to their feet. Though he still had hands around their necks, he had lost the leverage. They ignored his hands and all three began clubbing him in the back of the head, neck, and shoulders.

Bruce gritted his teeth, removing his hands and covering up his head. That had been embarrassing. This was why he still used armor.

He caught a split-second between blows and shot up to his feet. The two who had been choked before started; they thought that he had been close to defeat. 

They couldn’t be more wrong.

Batman clocked the one in the middle with a fist to the chest, then quickly grabbed the others by their heads and banged them together. Both fell to the ground without a word. Bruce then turned around, seeing the man he had slammed before trying to sit up. He stepped forward and punted him in the cheek, spraying blood and a few teeth across the tile floor. He slumped backward into unconsciousness.

He spotted the one-legged criminal crawling toward the vault door. He was too far away from the handle to be a threat yet.

Instead, Bruce shifted his focus to the man who had received a blow to the chest. He was in the process of finding his feet again, taking a few steps back to join a gathering mob of men…

He frowned. Those men who had abandoned the half-circle before had not been fleeing the bank after all. In fact, they had gone to close the front exit. But if they hadn’t tried to escape, why had they run? They didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons, except for one person still holding a flashlight.

That person raised his flashlight beam on him, trying to shine it in Bruce’s eyes. His cape fluttered as he spun around and threw a Batarang at the light source. The bulb broke inside of the stick, and the impact caused him to drop the flashlight. It clattered against the floor twice as the light dimmed, spilling some strange crystal out of the hole made at the top. 

_Doesn’t look like that belongs there,_ Bruce thought. Some sort of flashlight modifier? Or were they actually robbing the bank, but only taking the jewels from certain deposit boxes?

A pair of men rushed forward, the rest of them crowding around each other from behind. Bruce counted fourteen men, including the man with the broken leg. Several of the men trying to distract him from the vault had minor injuries themselves from the fallen chandelier; one of the two men leading the charge had some blood running down his chin from his nose.

The two men split off in opposite directions, getting on either side of Batman. Curiously, the rest of the men remained behind, hanging around in a solid formation that appeared to protect someone sitting in the center.

 _They’re hiding something,_ Bruce observed. With a quick tap on his gauntlet, he confirmed that none of them were carrying any firearms, but someone in the center appeared to be carrying something in both of his hands. It had the size of a soccer ball, but he couldn’t identify it through all of the bodies shielding it from his unaided eye.

After turning off his detective vision, Bruce entered into his combat stance to defend against hostiles from both sides. The two men seemed content to wait for his strike first.

Fine with him.

He pounced onto the man to his left, embracing him with arms locked around him. The man struggled against his armor but could not free himself. As the other attacked, Bruce slid down and pulled the captive rider over his head, throwing him into his friend. The two men’s skulls banged together, Bruce releasing his hold as he felt the body go limp. From underneath the newly unconscious criminal, the second attacker groaned, trying to remove himself from his position beneath non-moving body until Batman threw himself into a low knee to the face.

Bone crunched in the man’s nose as he fell back to join the man lying prone atop his body in a slumber. The pad covering Bruce’s knee had a few extra red spots on it after that.

Twelve men left.

Two more stepped forward to do the same as the previous two. Bruce noted their rather practical group mentality. These men were readily willing to wholly sacrifice themselves just to ensure that he was distracted for a few precious seconds. Such utilitarianism was rare in bank robbers.

Whatever they had up their collective sleeves, Bruce wasn’t inclined to allow them to try anything. As the two men approached him, he grabbed another smoke pellet from his belt and hurled it at the ground before him. Men coughed, but they formed no coherent words.

Batman turned around and ran toward the still awake robber near the vault. He was just a few feet away from the edge of the steel door. Another ten seconds, and he would have made it. He was reaching out for the hinges with both hands.

Batman slid like a baserunner, cracking him with both feet and trapping his head between the Dark Knight’s boots and the concrete wall. His head banged off of the stone surface, then dipped down and cracked against the floor. 

Eleven men left.

As the smoke continued to billow, Bruce pulled out his grapnel gun. From his seated position, he fired the gun up to the manager’s office window, conveniently directly across from him. The hook disappeared into the smoke for a moment until it came out on the other side and smashed through the window.

The grapnel gun began pulling him toward the smoke. Bruce extended his legs and allowed the gun to lift him a few feet off of the ground. 

He cut a swath right through the middle of the group, kicking six people as he passed by, all blows right to the head. Out the other end of the smoke, he continued his ascent until he was close to the height of the second floor.

He detached the hook, ending his upward progress but not his forward momentum. He hit the wall just below the window, quickly activating his detective vision and rebounding off the wall and back toward the smoke.

Batman scanned for any sign of the person holding the “soccer ball” in case he had not been among those who had been hit by the swinging kick. He saw the object on the ground inside of the smokescreen, and none of the others were able to find it. The Dark Knight flexed his cape to form his gliding apparatus, floating down inside. As he came close to hitting another criminal, he disengaged his cape, folded his arms, and somersaulted forward. As a result, he struck the man in the head with a flipping axe kick and landed on his feet.

Four men left.

The smoke began to clear, allowing one man to see him and attack. He yelled, throwing a right hook at the vigilante’s head. Bruce backstepped and swatted the strike aside, then avoided a second punch from the man’s other arm.

He rolled underneath another strike, standing up with his Batclaw in hand. He fired at the back of a man running for the vault, then pulled him down to the ground. With a forward slide, he wound up beside the supine robber, then delivered an inverted vertical elbow strike to his jaw.

Three men left.

The man who Bruce had struck in the chest earlier dove for him, landing on top of Batman as he turned over onto his front. He kept atop of the vigilante’s back, trying to pin him down as his two remaining allies made a final, desperate attempt to reach the vault.

Batman struggled, trying to roll away or take a Batarang out from his belt, but his hands were stuck under his own chest. Straining, he inched his left forefinger over to his right gauntlet, trying to locate the button he needed.

One of the men got his hand on the handle wheel.

Batman hit the button. The blades on his gauntlet ejected, jumping from his arm and embedding themselves in his opponent’s hip.

He whimpered, curling up in pain, giving Bruce the opportunity to catapult the man over toward the vault door. He landed on his back right in front of the criminal with his hand on the wheel. He started, shocked by the sudden crash beside him.

Batman dashed over to him and jumped, landing with both feet on top of the floored attacker’s chest- again- and using him as a platform to jump up again and dropkick the closest robber. He flew away from the handle wheel and knocked over the other man close to the steel door. Bruce landed with one last elbow drop to the chest of his former platform.

He groaned, nestling his cracked ribs. Batman left him to his misery, fully expecting him to pass out in a few seconds. 

Two men left.

He walked calmly over to the two men trying to stand up. To their credit, they didn’t at all look frightened. In fact, they appeared to be as stoic as he normally was, with a tinge of anger lacing their jawlines.

One lunged in a tackle attempt, the other reaching for the handle wheel again past him. Batman sidestepped the lunge and cradled the man’s head with both arms, flipping him forward and onto his rear. In one motion, he spun around and kicked him in the side of the head, hitting the other man in the knee on the follow through.

One tripped, the other fell unconscious. The Dark Knight stepped over to the vault, grabbing the final man by the back of his collar, dragging him away from the handle. This one tried to spring to his feet and swipe at him. Bruce dodged the backhand, ducking under his arm. Straightening out, Bruce grabbed him by the face, clasping tight. Ignoring the screams vibrating against his palm, Bruce lifted him up off of the ground before smashing the back of his head into the ground.

All hostiles neutralized.

Bruce stood amidst the cast of strewn bodies, switching off his detective vision and taking note of the property damage the battle had created. Some smashed glass, bloodstains, and a few chipped floor tiles. All in all, not as much as usual thanks to the lack of bullet holes.

He turned around to face the only other conscious person in the lobby: the potential leader he had strung up earlier by his leg. He was still struggling, trying to shake himself free of the claw locked around his leg.

Batman approached him cautiously, observing how he shifted from trying to free himself to trying to reach for the vigilante.

Bruce caught his wrist and twisted it to the side. There was a cry of pain, magnified further when Batman walked around the dangling robber, spinning him in a painful circle. He let go of the man’s wrist, allowing him to spin back around the other way before he grabbed the upside-down robber by the throat. 

“Who are you?” Batman threatened.

He didn’t respond, instead electing to punch at Batman’s stomach. His blows futilely bounced off of the armor, but that didn’t deter his efforts. Annoyingly, he only stopped when Bruce grabbed his other wrist and snapped the bone inside.

“I said, who are you?” he repeated.

Again, no response other than some forced straining and growling. Even with two dislocated wrists, he was trying to swing his arms to hit him.

“Fine.” Batman stepped back, then tossed a Batarang at the rope dangling him from the ceiling. He crashed head and neck first into the ground, putting him to sleep with the rest of his men. The police could interrogate him later.

“Alfred,” Batman called, raising his gauntlet and recalling the blades from one of the criminals’ hips with the push of a button. The magnets within each piece activated, causing the blades to shake themselves free and fly to their slots in the raised gauntlet.

“I assume all of the intruders have been dealt with,” came the reply. “Shall I call the police now?”

“Not yet,” Bruce said. He took a look at the skylight. Some of the glass was still there, but heavily cracked. With the assistance of two more Batarangs from his belt, the glass came free. “I can’t be sure of what was in the vault, and I can’t be sure of whether or not they managed to open it. One of them got a hand on it.”

“Sir…” Alfred said nervously. “You don’t think there was some type of contagion in the vault, do you?” His detective vision was capable of identifying some toxins in the air, but not with nearly enough accuracy to be trusted. Lucius was still working on making the cowl capable of detecting Scarecrow’s fear gas.

“No, but I’m not taking any chances.” He checked out the nearest windows leading out of the bank. They were farther away from the vault than the skylight, so they would not be of much help to him.

“Well, can’t you just… just,” Alfred sputtered. “I mean, why not just close the door and call for hazmat teams?”

“If I get close to it, I might catch it, and any toxin concentrated enough to be in the vault and not get filtered out by the air vents can be dispersed by the wind. I need it out of the bank.” There were a few men close to the vault that Bruce used the Batclaw to drag away. “If there is anything, of course.”

Alfred sighed audibly into the microphone. “Well, you know best sir.”

“Of course I do.” He turned around and searched for whatever object they had tried to use against him. “I’m going to investigate. We’ll call Gordon once I leave.”

“Of course,” Alfred said tiredly. “Please try not to contract any diseases.”

Bruce nodded, then recalled that he had shut the power to the bank’s cameras. “I’ll bring to you anything I find.”

He swept around the large desk in the lobby. Whatever that soccer-ball-shaped device had been, it might have gotten kicked around during the fight. Or one of them might have recovered it and hidden it somewhere while he was distracted.

He trailed off, noticing that crystal on the floor from where the flashlight had cracked open. Without any distractions, he could examine it more closely. It appeared to be a quartz diamond shaded blueish-white, more than a few imprinted rhombuses lining the inside. The gem did not cast a shine from the emergency lights, but it looked sharp enough to be able to give off a brilliant luster. 

As he was about to go retrieve it, he finally found the object that they had attempted to hide from him. Next to the wooden wall of the desk, a potted plant stood perfectly on top of the tiles, never mind the few soil stains on the ground beside it. A split rock succulent, by the look of it.

 _A plant?_ Bruce looked back and forth between the plant and crystal. What had these men been planning?

He strode over to the potted plant on the ground, trying to determine any irregularities. It was possible that there was something hidden in the soil or in inside of the rock. Considering that these men hadn’t been armed, he did not think it was an explosive, but he wasn’t going to break it to look inside.

Batman knelt down before the plant, activating his lenses. His technology did not detect any electrical circuitry in the soil, nor did he see anything hidden from within the plant. What he did find, however, was a missing stalk between the two mounds. Most split rock succulents as large as this would have sprouted by now. 

He turned off his detective vision, then peered between the rocks. The sprout appeared to have been ripped out, as the slit where it would have grown had a tear that ran up the side of one of the rock walls. The plant appeared to be alive despite this.

He frowned. Looking closer, he could see that the hole where the sprout should have been was leaking a faint red gas. It swirled in a twisting pattern an inch or two above the two rocks before dissipating.

 _Is there an explosive hidden inside after all?_ he wondered. He resumed his detective vision and leaned down to get a better look inside of the hole. A detonation device hidden inside of an ordinary object could be an effective assassination tool. Had their intent been to stash the plant in the bank, make sure that Batman had not shown up, then leave the plant behind? Was there a specific target in mind?

The scanners couldn’t find anything inside, but he got a whiff of the red smoke as he got close.

It smelled sweet, aromatic… like paradise. 

He suddenly felt very, very contented. He found that he enjoyed the sensation, not caring as his arms went numb, subsequently losing his grip on the pot. It landed loudly against the floor, but the pot didn’t shatter from such a short height and a guided fall.

He stood up awkwardly and took a few steps away from the plant. He still had control over his body, but there was a certain disharmony that came with any movement he made.

“Alfred,” he said. Who was he again? “I feel… strange.”

“Perhaps you should take a rest, sir,” he heard back.

That was it. That was exactly what he had said. There was no need to check with him again and there was no possibility that he had said anything else. He definitely wasn’t making any excuses. The person on the other side of the radio had absolutely just given him permission and he hadn’t been misheard. One-hundred percent, he was not pretending to have heard the voice say anything other than what he had most assuredly heard.

He switched off his detective vision and turned off his radio, letting the world come back into focus. Only it didn’t. The emergency lights became brighter, his sight developing more defined. Not unbearably bright, but just enough to make it seem like they were as bright as the moon and as warm as the sun. He bathed in the warmth.

Relaxed, he slumped down to lay against the tiles, basking in the glow. He closed his eyes.

He felt content. He felt rested. Restored, refreshed, pleasant, complete.

Peaceful.

Suddenly, he heard some reverberating clicks of steel, followed by the soft sounds of metallic squeaking. Moments later, he could feel an even brighter light than those emergency lights along the walls enveloping him from his side. Had the sun risen already?

He cracked an eyelid, peeking out to his right. It took his eye a moment to adjust to the light.

There was a rectangular patch of a bright, yellow light over there. So bright, in fact, that he couldn’t see the emergency lights any longer. In fact, he really couldn’t see much outside of the light, as it consumed everything else and leaving it in a blurred shadow.

 _I died,_ he thought immediately. It wasn’t nearly as concerning a thought as it should have and normally would have been. _That plant probably killed me._ That patch of light in front of his eyes must have been the gates of heaven. He hadn’t been particularly religious in life, but it was comforting to know that he had an afterlife to look forward to beyond that gateway.

A figure moved into the center of the frame from the side, standing there as if a pillar separating the two halves. His vision was too blurry- and the figure too backlit- for him to see much about it, though he guessed that it was a person from the height and general silhouette outline.

The person began walking toward him, exiting the frame and resolving into a more defined shape. It appeared to be a woman, given the long, chest-length hair and the swaying hips. She also appeared to have an hourglass shape.

As she got even closer to him, he could see even more of her. Or, rather, he could see more about her. She didn’t wear any traditional clothing on her body, but she had a sparse covering of what looked like maple leaves there to maintain the pretense of modesty, though much more was flaunted than hidden.

Long, shapely legs connected her shoeless yet sightly feet to her elegantly graceful hips, the width of which he had never even thought possible. Higher up her curvaceous form, a firm abdomen with a rim disguised by the shadows. Behind some leaves and hair strands, a bountiful bust stood proudly on their own without a need for physical support, no matter how much they begged for physical contact. Her balanced neck gave rift to a curved jawline and full, pouty lips. Her eyes- though not fully visible in the darkness- had an almond shape and fluttering lashes.

With another few steps forward, he noticed two other striking characteristics about her. First, her flowing, uncurled hair was red, like the color of a ruby. It highlighted the face fronting the sea of scarlet, with the symmetrical features.

Second, her skin was green.

He had thought it a trick of the light at first, but as she closed in, he could see the tint to her features that complemented the red mane. Not as dark as the maple leaves that adorned her flesh, she dressed in the skin of a lime that dazzled his mind.

And finally, she came to a stop while standing over him, looking down at him with eyes he could finally see. Upon her beautiful face, two emerald eyes shone warmly with an enchanting glint.

He was definitely in heaven.

 _This is no woman,_ he thought, no longer knowing anything else. _This has to be an angel._ Idly, he wondered at the initial reactions of other people who had died and found her. They had probably gawked like him.

She lowered down to her knees beside him and settled back on her heels and ankles. Her eyes, then hands, roved over his armor, inspecting him. She flashed him an absolutely radiant smile, so bright that he had no choice but to smile back at her.

She purred, her hands finding his chest plate and rubbing it fondly. Obviously, she was pleased to see him, though he couldn’t feel her touch.

“Are you divine?” he asked softly.

The angel smiled at him again. She gently moved one of her palms up to his forehead, covered by the cowl. He still felt no touch, but he knew the weight of her hand. Light, like the rest of her.

“I am Poison Ivy,” she announced. The thumb of her hand traced around a spot on his cowl above his eyes. “You are my pet.”

Something about that didn’t seem quite right to him, but he couldn’t focus on it the way he was focusing on her. 

Still smiling, her hands left his head and chest respectively and drifted down to both of his hands, slipping her fingers under his. Tenderly, Ivy helped him to a seated position, bringing him to eye level with her face.

So close. Almost nose to nose, the angel tilted her head and beckoned to him with her eyes. An invitation.

Her hands trailed behind as she stood and turned around, facing the gate to heaven. Upon turning, she revealed to him a gratuitous bottom almost obscenely uncovered if not for a few leaves and vines separating his head from her flesh. Her two ass cheeks rippled as she walked a few steps away. A quarter of the way back to where she had come from, she turned, full hips twisting as she turned over her shoulder to look down at him.

“Come,” Ivy said. Her smile was still too warm for any other recourse.

Slowly, he made his way to his feet, his boots abnormally carrying the only sound between them. As he came up beside her, Ivy reached out her hand and took his once more, pulling him without resistance over to the new world.

Or so he thought. As he got closer, he recognized the emergency lights coming back into view, the rectangular light becoming somehow dimmer than it had appeared before. It was not heaven before him; it was the bank vault. He was still alive.

He frowned. That meant that this woman leading him into the vault was not an angel, though he had no explanation for her unusual skin tone. 

Beneath the surface, he began to recognize other things wrong, like the bodies strewn about the area. He had knocked them out himself, to the best of his recollection. This was a battlefield, not a quiet place for a woman as beautiful as Ivy. That had to mean that she was involved with what these men had done, perhaps even orchestrated the entire job on the bank.

Just as he opened his mouth to protest, they arrived at the entrance to the vault, and they stopped. Ivy’s hand left his as he twitched forward, eyes widening. 

He gasped. It may not have been heaven, but it was still a paradise.

The interior looked nothing like the steel walls nor the concrete foundations surrounding. It was a grassy meadow with an abundance of color that made up what could only be understated as a garden. Flowers of all different varieties blossomed in every corner. Mouthwatering fruits grew from small bushes and trees. Warm yellow lights from the ceiling reflected off of a tiny reservoir. The ceiling itself was covered over with green, branches and vines obscuring even the slightest hint of gray.

He could find no words, choking a few off as he stepped deeper into the chamber. At the center of the garden, a giant tulip pod seemingly stopped directly at the ground selfishly took up a lot of empty space with only grass around it. As he got closer, the pod opened up, a half-dozen petals extending in all different directions and setting down on the ground. Those petals looked incredibly thick, as if the enormous flower was meant to sustain a lot of weight. It also looked spacious enough to be a mattress.

That metal squeaking sounded out behind him again. Reluctantly, he turned from the heavenly visage to find Ivy’s back to him as she sealed the vault with several pronounced clicks, which was truthfully an even more heavenly visage. As the door locked, the vines and brush suddenly expanded, covering the door and making it disappear.

She turned around. In the greater amount of light, he could better appreciate her stunning beauty. If she was not an angel, then it seemed impossible that he had never seen nor heard of her before. Green skin notwithstanding, she could captivate any man on the cover of any magazine or the front of any movie. Poison Ivy her name, loveliness and sex her game.

He was just about drowning in it.

In her hands was the potted succulent, which she placed down on the grass next to her feet. She then straightened out, slowly and sensually. In the same manner, she walked past him with a grazing touch to his side. She moved to stand in the center of the open tulip before turning around to face him.

Ivy raised an arm over and behind her head, then lifted her other arm toward him, palm to the floor and fingers half-extended. “Come to me, my pet,” she said, two fingers curling and uncurling in invitation.

He complied, taking a few steps forward. He took Ivy’s outreached hand in both of his, green skin atop black gloves. She used her free hand to guide him down to his knees before her.

She smiled down to him once more, making him smile back at her. Despite her confident and beautiful smile, something still felt off to him. He couldn’t quite place it; how could anything be wrong with this environment and this woman? But then, that was the unusual bit, wasn’t it? Green lands were not usually found inside of a bank vault.

A bank vault. It suddenly occurred to him that he was trapped in the vault, incapable of opening it from the inside. Ivy had only been able to exit once the handle wheel had been turned by one of the men outside, but closing it had caused the locks to engage again.

And Poison Ivy had been working with those men outside.

“Are you ready to serve me, Batman?” Ivy asked breathily.

 _I’m nobody’s pet,_ he thought. _I’m Batman! <_/p>

His dual grip on her hand tightened, pulling her a bit closer as he growled. “I don’t serve anyone.”

She didn’t appear to be too concerned about his comment, though her smile did fade into a quizzical frown. Her expression seemed to ask the rhetorical question “Really? You really think so?” rather than the usual “Please don’t hurt me!” that most gave him at such close range. It was a look of disdain, not concern.

Her expression shifted again to one of pain as he roughly pulled her by the wrist off of the tulip and threw her down to the vines and moss that obstructed the vault door. Batman loomed over her, casting half of her form in a slight shadow.

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded. He wasn’t totally sure how threatening he could look under the bright lights on the ceiling, but he hoped his posture would indicate that he was willing to hurt her if necessary. He expected her to respond with an outpouring of fear and regret.

Instead, she sighed and rolled her eyes, adjusting her body so that she reclined on one elbow, the other hand trailing along her hip. “I thought I made it perfectly clear earlier.” She reached a hand down to the base of the plant wall.

The moss splatted suddenly, exploding outward in green slime. Bruce flinched back, narrowly avoiding the moss’s reach toward his eyes, though he ended up with a few drops on his gauntlet. 

He stepped back right onto the open tulip, then felt it rumbling. Alarmed, he dodged to the side as something burst out of the bud. What in the hell?

He dropped to one knee, pulling up his cape as the object grew like a standing cobra. As he regarded it, he recognized it as a stamen. A large stamen, in fact. It was thin, only a few inches in diameter. The filament coiled about itself several times as it continued its ascent to the ceiling. The yellow anther pointed directly down at him, threatening to pop at him.

It then occurred to him that tulips had two stamens. Looking down, he caught the barest glimpse of the second stamen’s anther popping out from the bud, just in time for him to roll out of the way.

He came to a stop a few feet from the center of the enlarged tulip head, armed with a Batarang in his right hand. Bruce raised it up beside his head as the two filaments twisted around themselves.

Was this a hallucination? Sentient plants in a giant garden? It seemed far too out of the realm of an elaborate, staged performance by a bunch of conmen. He had to treat these plants as if they were as real as he was.

And the woman behind him had to have the answers. Bruce looked under his raised arm to see Ivy finding her feet, brushing off her thighs and knees as if there was a scuffing there. Instead, all that came off were a few leaves that made up her “clothes,” as it were. 

The skin previously beneath those leaves looked ever so inviting. He hesitated.

Just long enough for one of the stamens to wrap itself around his bicep.

Batman turned back to it as it tightened its hold. He tried to bring the sharp and of the Batarang down on the filament, but the Batarang was in the immobilized hand. Quickly, he flicked the Batarang to his other hand, then swiped it through the green tendril. It disconnected at the point where it began wrapping around his arm, letting the tendril fall back to the ground. In that split second, Bruce determined that there were no wires in half of the stamen.

The part still around his gauntlet would come off with another cut. As he raised the Batarang to deliver the strike, the second stamen came in for that arm, this time finding his wrist. Abruptly, it squeezed tight, not allowing him the option to use the Batarang. The anther then opened as it continued coiling around his wrist.

With its open head, it caught the detached tendril on his bicep. The two pieces clasped to one another as if they had been meant to do just that. The single remaining stamen began wrapping around both of his arms now.

It jerked them both up above his head. Batman struggled in the grip, losing the Batarang and watching as it fell harmlessly to the petals below just out of his leg’s reach. 

He redoubled his efforts, hoping to slip an arm free before it became too tight that he lost all feeling in them. His right arm was less secure than his left, as the detached tendril wasn’t as tight as the still moving one. Twisting, he heaved and bent his arm. If he could just-

That Batarang disappeared under Ivy’s foot, who had stepped onto the flower behind him. Bruce looked at her and found her to be holding the succulent in both hands.

Smirking, she raised the succulent up to his face, red smoke drifting up so that he could smell the aroma.

He gasped, slinking back to try to avoid taking in more of it. Even from such a small exposure, he could already feel the total, overpowering sense of peace taking hold. 

Batman wound up in the center of the bud, losing his base control as the stamen lifted him up a foot off of the surface. Still holding the potted plant, Ivy stepped off of the petal onto the pistil.

Immediately after, the petal began a slow fold upward. To his horror, the other petals did the same, each rising up simultaneously to wall the two of them inside of the bud. She moved closer to him in a slow gait, reveling in her victory. 

“Surrender, Batman,” Ivy soothed. “You don’t need to fight anymore; you cannot fight anymore. You cannot fight Mother Nature.”

Already, he could feel his muscles relaxing, relieved to have been given a rest after so long a battle. Desperate, he gritted his teeth, squirming with every fiber of his being to free his right hand. _Almost there._

The petals above them ended their ascent, forming fifteen-foot walls that slanted inwards. There were slits between them to allow light to seep in, but they were not wide enough for him to fit through. Bruce had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be able to cut through the petals; either they would be too plush- like the pistil beneath them- to tear or too tough to break.

Badly, he wanted to hang his hang down and take a break. He could always escape later, right? It was not like he could escape now, anyway. 

But he could still feel the arm. _Almost there._

“It’s great what you can do when you have the right imagination,” Ivy said. “When nature is on your side.” She inspected the object in her hands. “Pleiospilos Nelli. A wonderful scent, I know. Makes you more… agreeable.”

“You used it… on those men outside…” Batman replied, pushing through the calming haze. It was difficult to focus on anything other than how much he wanted to quit. That and her gorgeous face.

“Not quite,” Ivy hinted. “They didn’t need to relax.” Oddly, she caressed the succulent with her fingertips. “What they needed was a leader. I gave that to them, made them worship me.” She then used her hand to push her hair back behind her shoulders. “Of course, the pheromones didn’t hurt. Another good way to change minds.”

“Why?” Bruce asked, doing his best not to get distracted by the skin now exposed without her hair in the way.

“You, Batman.”

Showing teeth, she stepped directly in front of him. If he could, he would have kicked at her or swung her up with him, but his legs were practically useless, leaving him just dangling by his arms. Ivy raised the succulent up to his face once more. The effect was immediate, leaving him barely able to think. He couldn’t formulate any sort of plan other than to get her.

“That’s it, Batman,” the green-skinned beauty encouraged. “Give in to me. Don’t fight it. You can’t resist. No man can resist Poison Ivy.”

In one final attempt, his right arm finally slipped free of the stamen. It came down with barely any control, trying to grasp her shoulder before he lost total control of the limb.

It fell much slower than he’d wanted it to fall. Ivy easily caught his arm by the wrist without dropping the succulent in her other hand. She took note of his limp hand, grinning wide and catching his eye with hers.

Batman’s head finally drooped, falling into the opening between the rocks. That put him even closer to the source of the aroma.

Amusedly, Ivy let go of his arm, letting it flop back to his side. She didn’t even care enough to take away his belt. It was already over. He accepted it with closed eyes.

After a long, blissful time spent savoring the succulent, his head dropped even further when Ivy removed the pot and placed it down a short distance away. With partially cracked eyelids, he could see her picking up the Batarang deposited near one of the petal walls.

She brought it back over to him, balancing the unique object in her hands. Reaching out, she used the sharp edge of the Batarang to make a slice in the armor just above his hip. The Batsuit tore open there, leaving a hole. She did the same for the opposite side. There was some small amount of blood, but there was no pain. There was only the calm.

She dropped the Batarang then. It landed softly on top of the pistil, then sunk into it as part of the flower swallowed it up like a too-soft pillow. The pistil then returned to normal as if there had never been anything there.

“So, you don’t think you’re my pet,” Ivy said. She pulled something out from above her ear. With the hair blocking it, he hadn’t been able to see that before. It looked like a small, silver tube of lipstick.

His suspicions were confirmed when she twisted two halves of it and a red stick popped out. She raised the colored end to her lips. “How can we change that?” Ivy began painting her lips.

He gaped in pure awe of her form. How could he have ever thought of her as an angel? She was a goddess! She was the example of beauty that everything else in the world had failed to copy. A perfectly proportioned body that could make even an exhale seem graceful. 

Ivy finished with her lipstick and blew him a kiss. “I’m sure by now that my pheromones have made you realize that you cannot fight me.” She put the lipstick into a seam on the petal wall. A pocket, perhaps one that had been made for just that purpose. “I’m sure by now that you’ve also realized that I am perfection given life.”

He nodded dully. It was fraction of an inch of motion.

“I’m also sure by now that you’d be willing to take off that mask and show me the man beneath.” She stretched lightly. “Look at me, and you’ll find that it’s true.”

It was true. Was he even wearing a mask? It didn’t seem that way anymore.

She blew him another kiss, displaying the deep red that had casted her lips. It matched the shade of her hair. “And I’m also sure that you’d be willing to kiss me, right now.”

He was.

“This lipstick is special, my pet,” Ivy said. “It will spread spores in you, make you mine forever. It will be the end of your free will, and you will have no more thoughts other than pleasing me.” She reached a hand up to the back of his cowl. “And despite that, you still want to kiss me, don’t you?”

“Yes…” he replied quietly.

She waited expectantly, keeping her mouth close to his. He nearly pressed his lips to hers right then and there, but a combination of exhaustion and some small measure of resistance held him back. He couldn’t do much of anything, really.

“Do you love me?” Ivy asked.

“Yes…” he said. “I… love you.”

“Would you die for me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you do anything for me?” she pressed.

“Yes,” he said, firmer than before.

“Then kiss me, my Bat. Become mine.”

He remembered who he was. He was Bruce Wayne. He was the Batman.

He was her pet.

Closing his eyes, his head drifted forward until he discovered her in a kiss.

The taste of her was much like he had expected; sweet, luscious, ambrosial. Bruce pressed his lips against hers roughly with a sense of need, though her kiss was slightly more reserved. They broke contact for less than a second to regain their breath, eagerly returning to combine once more. He craned his neck forward as best he could, begging for more.

The stamen holding his arms withdrew, awkwardly dropping him back onto the flower floor. He came down on hands on knees, a step or two from Ivy. He looked up at her, finding her to be studying him intently.

After a moment of consideration, she bent down to meet his eyes. He was still on his knees, subservient.

Both of her hands reached out to grasp the ears of the cowl. With anyone else, he would have broken those hands. With her, he had no control.

They tugged gently at his scalp, shaking it out of its secure position until the base of the cowl was all that shielded his face. Soon, that was pulled free too, allowing his sweat-laced head to feel the atmosphere of the tulip. Unsurprisingly, it was musty and hot.

Ivy chuckled softly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Bruce commented.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Ivy said. Bruce was confused as the filament slithered over to her, then rose up to slide between her hands. She put his cowl on top of the anther, cradled it, then continued. “He thought he was so powerful, so strong.” She seemed to be talking directly to the stamen. “All it took was a few seconds and he was done.”

Bruce didn’t respond. It didn’t seem prudent to interrupt her… or even get off of his knees.

“You did well,” Ivy said. She finally released the stamen and returned her gaze to him. “Prepare for a brand-new world, my pet.”

The stamen began to retreat back to its hole, dragging his cowl along with it. As it was almost all of the way back into the hole it had come from, it dropped the cowl, leaving it within his reach. The hole then sealed shut, slowly enclosing upon the anther until it was completely healed over. The other hole where the dead stamen had come from sealed by itself, leaving the lifeless green coil on the bud.

Ivy turned her back on him. “Put it on,” she ordered. 

The petal walls began to fall. As more light shined on them, Bruce grabbed the cowl, bearing it again. 

Ivy glanced at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “I meant the stamen.”

Not questioning her, he crawled over to the stamen, grabbing both coiled ends of the fifteen-foot length. Hefting the surprisingly heavy material, he placed the center of it over the back of his neck. It settled there comfortably.

The petals continued to fall, allowing Bruce to once again view the outside paradise land. Again, he was amazed by the indescribable divinity to the unpolluted area. Short of the chirping of birds, he could believe that he was somewhere on a tropical island… with colorful and patterned flowers.

It was indeed Mother Nature’s personal work. Poison Ivy was her hand, bringing her beauty to the world.

Ivy stepped off of the petal in a slow walk. A short distance away, she pulled a strawberry from a spruce. She sniffed it blissfully, savoring the scent. She then kissed the tip of it lightly.

She returned back to him, still on his knees. As she moved closer, he could see that the object in her hand was not actually a strawberry. It didn’t have any leaves or seeds adorning the outer layer. It was shaped like the fruit, but it certainly didn’t appear to be for eating.

She stood over him, displaying the red object with the lipstick on the end. Lightly, she lowered it to his side where she had cut him earlier. Ivy squeezed the small red device, causing it to secrete a warm salve on his skin.

“Nature’s gifts,” Ivy commented as she rubbed in the light green substance. “Plants give healing. Plants give life. But men?” Her motions became rougher as she applied the salve to his other cut. “All men do is destroy. They crush, they murder, they ruin. All of them, savages.” 

Her hand came up to his cheek, cupping it gently. “But you, Batman, can be different. The greatest of men, as I’ve been told.” Her hand trailed down his body to his chest. “As I’ve felt.” Her hand found his belt, then reached lower. “Perhaps you could be the one man who can give me what I need.”

“Yes, Ivy,” Bruce replied.

She shook her head. “To the world, I am Poison Ivy, but I am a goddess. I am the world to you, your life, your everything. Understood.”

“Yes.” He noticed her expectant stare. “Mistress.”

“Good,” Ivy smirked. She stood, dropping the strawberry-shaped device onto the flower next to him. The end of the stamen was in her hand. She slowly pulled it off of his head and settled it onto the ground before him. “Rule one: you will kill no other plant. My babies have been in pain for long enough. This is the only rule to remember; I hope it’s not too hard. You will do as I say when I command you, but if it is a choice between you and my babies, I’m not choosing you.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Batman said. It was unusual to hear plants referred to as “babies,” but he imagined that it would become common before too long. This was his new life now.

She nodded. “Follow.” She turned from him and walked to the portion of the vault where the door was. As she approached, the plant wall retreated to expose the steel door. She knocked on it twice. From the other side, the handle wheel was turned. The door opened with a squeal, revealing a darker room with one man with blood running down his face right in front of the door.

He dropped to his knees before Ivy. “Mistress,” he acknowledged, speaking for the first time that Bruce heard.

“You did well,” Ivy commented. “Opening the vault when you did… I was almost concerned for a moment.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the man replied. He spoke in monotone. Bruce decided that he’d best imitate his tone of voice in the future.

“I want you to take everyone else and go throw yourselves off the nearest bridge. If anyone can’t walk right now, carry them.” Ivy waved her hand dismissively. “I thank you for your service.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He stood up and grabbed the handle wheel. A few seconds later, the vault door was closed and locked again. A few seconds after that, the plant wall reformed.

Ivy turned around to face him again. “It’s hard to find good help these days. I’m hoping you will end those troubles.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Batman said, doing his best to keep his voice level and monotone. He was used to talking with a low inflection, but he was never as robotic as he was then.

She seemed pleased by it. “Excellent.” She stepped forward, a more pronounced sway to her hips than before but no less graceful. 

The plants behind her as she stepped swirled up in twisting patterns. They created a more defined canvas. Bruce suspected that they were also emitting some sort of additional pheromone, considering the change in the atmosphere he sensed. The air felt thicker than it had just a few minutes ago.

Ivy reached him, then extended her arm out to him. He grabbed her hand with both of his and kissed it, then rose to his feet, being careful not to upset her balance with his weight. Mostly, he just stood up while keeping contact with her hand rather than using her to pull himself up.

She smiled, raising her other hand back to his cheek, then letting it drift down to his side. Letting out a throaty chuckle, she let go of him and walked past him to the center of the flower. She sat atop the pistil, her toes pointed toward him.

“The door appears to be locked,” Ivy commented lightly. “No way out of here. Whatever shall we do with the time we have now.” She beckoned to him with her index finger. She seemed to enjoy gesturing with gentle motions.

He approached slowly, coming close to her until she had him stop a foot or two from her. She studied him with hunger in her eyes, a demanding look that would not be denied. Bruce could guess what her next order would be.

“Mmmm…” Ivy grunted softly. “Take off that belt of yours. You won’t need it in here.”

As with her request, he complied. Bruce grabbed his belt with both hands and separated the seal at the front. Removed from his waist, he placed it down on the flower. It sank into the plant like his Batarang had earlier.

After it disappeared, the flower texture returned to its normal state, no trace of anything having ever been there in the first place. 

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” she yawned. “It looked so heavy, it must feel nice not having to carry it around. I would- oh my! Really?”

His belt had a secondary purpose beyond storing his weapons and gadgets. It also acted as a safeguard that held his uniform together in a perfect fit, even when torn or compressed. Without it, his top was revealed to be a little too large for his stature. That was by design, as more surface area meant he could fit more armor around his person. His pants were also a tad too wide for him, and they sagged quite a bit with the weight of his knee plates not being offset by the belt.

Ivy shrugged. “And here I thought that the so-called best of men would be a bit more of a challenge than the others. Oh, well.” She nodded. “You can take the pants off too.”

Batman raised his gauntlet and pressed the release button for his pants. They opened from behind, allowing him to shake them off and step out of his boots in one motion.

Ivy breathed a surprised, quizzical exhale. “Perhaps I was mistaken. I thought… hmm…”

Bruce remained standing, half-clothed. He didn’t wear any boxers; the Batsuit’s pants required him to be wearing nothing beneath so as to not leave an exploitable seam. The belt itself would contain his manhood and disguise it behind the Bat symbol on the front. When the belt was off, it could have looked like to an outside observer that he had an erection.

At least for those few who had never seen his uncovered erection.

“Interesting,” she noted, still keeping a close gaze of his still limp member. “Usually… well, I thought that you were aroused already. Most of my pets are when they first see me.” Her nose crinkled in concern. “You’re not dysfunctional, are you?”

“No, Mistress,” Bruce replied in monotone. He wasn’t even trying to do it that time, just adjusting to it instinctually. “I’ve had years of practice in containing my urges.”

She actually grinned, rising to her knees. “Ah, maybe this will be a challenge after all.” She scooted forward on her hind like a fox, circling her prey. “I want you,” she breathed huskily, “to use all of your willpower, your training, or whatever it is you use to resist, to not get hard.” She reached his base, looking straight up at him. “Don’t move, don’t talk, and don’t look away. Let’s see how long this takes.”

He nodded his understanding. Bruce had wanted this ever since he had seen her, he could admit, but he hadn’t ever developed any physical signs of lust. Though he was as cold as ice on the outside, inwardly, he was excited with a barely contained, overjoyed giddiness.

Ivy rested her forehead against his groin, breathing hotly onto his member. “I bet you’re just dying to be inside me already, aren’t you?”

He nodded, but she didn’t see it.

Leaning against his body for support, Ivy found her way to her feet. She lightly pushed against his chest with her palm, drifting backward a few steps so that he could see all of her body. In this moment, he could observe her figure in a more total view. The vines and leaves that made up her underwear were incredibly thin, making them look similar to threads. The leaves that covered the rest of her were strewn about in no apparently particular pattern, but they were comparatively plentiful around her chest area.

Her hands crossed over her own shoulders. She moved both hands down her body in unison, though she turned her back on him before her hands got to her midriff. Her magnificent green ass poked out at him from behind the vines and leaves, as those hands continued down her front. When they reached her thighs, they spread as fists to her sides. The two fists opened, dropping several dozen small maple leaves to the floor. Unlike his gadgets, they didn’t sink into the pistil.

Her head turned slightly, glancing down at his cock to find it still drooping down between his thighs. Not erect in the slightest.

Bruce’s mind, however, was ablaze with desire. His tongue was curled up and straining against locked teeth.

The corner of her lips tugged upward for a split-second before she turned her head back away from him. Raising both arms above her head and resting her arms on top of her skull, she bent forward further and stalked backwards. Twirling in tiny circles, her bottom grabbed his attention in a vice grip as it nearly made contact with his pelvis.

She moaned sensually. “I bet you’re just dying to be pounding me into the ground, aren’t you?”

He nodded senselessly. Who wouldn’t want to take her right there?

Ivy whipped her hair forward over her face, then back behind herself. The purpose was twofold, near as he could tell. Not only did it shed the leaves in her hair; it teased him with minimal contact with her red waterfall brushing over the exposed parts of his face beneath the cowl.

But he relied on his practiced thought patterns to keep from wholly appreciating her majesty. He could pretend that she was related to him. Closely related. Maternally. Grandmaternal. From Mars. Still exceedingly sexy, though.

She looked at him over her shoulder again, standing upright as her cheek turned. “Still nothing, huh?”

Bruce shook his head in a small motion.

She grunted. “How about now?” She spun around, showcasing her front.

He gasped. “Exceedingly sexy” didn’t do her justice.

Seeing her like this gave him the inspiration to make a painting that could only ever give the viewer a rough approximation of her. Large, lime-colored breasts came to acuminous, pine-shaded stubs placed perfectly at their centers. Each breast was unbelievably round; no sculptor could get such a perfect mold. Spherical in design, the short distance let him gauge their depth, even during their short jiggle. At a glance, they seemed like they could be as plush as the flower beneath their feet, perhaps even softer. He could imagine himself having a fistful of the greatest material on Earth, desperately digging into her flesh for the warmth.

Ivy smirked. “Like I said, my pet. No man can resist me.”

Startled, Bruce looked down to see his cock coming alive. It was a strange sight to him, as he had never even thought about having an erection while wearing the Batsuit. When he put it on, the Bruce went to hide, leaving behind something else entirely. 

“I’ll admit, I had to take out the big guns to do it,” Ivy conceded as Bruce watched his own member inflate. “You certainly have more to you than other men. But in the end, any man will fall for a nice pair of tits put in front of him. Your willpower may be great, but my charm- and my body- cannot be denied. Hopefully, you can last longer-” She cut off.

Batman looked up at her, finding her eyes growing wider by the second. They were glued to his cock, which was quickly expanding like her eyes. Only one was in the process of ending.

Her eyes returned to his, narrowing in contentment. “Best of men, huh?”

She slinked forward, reaching her hands out and firmly taking a hold of the ears of his mask. The cowl slipped off of his head quickly, unsettling his hair and making his eyelids burn. Ivy contemplated the mask before letting it fall to the pistil. The pistil did not swallow the mask, unlike his weapons. It was spared for the moment.

Something was wrong.

“I need you,” Ivy began, “to prove that you are what they say you are.” She slipped her fingers under his shirt, an easy task considering that it only loose fit without the belt. “Prove to me that you are worthy of being by my side when I rid this- what?” She looked down to find that his cock was still growing and had reached her thigh from the short gap between their bodies. “Wow.”

At rest, his cock was around three inches in length. To best get the Batsuit to mend to his form, he took regular measurements of all of his extremities. Which, at least until this night, had only ever gotten him hard enough to reach eight inches. With Poison Ivy before him, he could comfortably (in theory) state that it had to be at least a full foot from end to end. It stopped there, standing proudly with its tip braced on her leg.

Tantalizingly, this was first skin contact he had initiated. Just her thigh and her lips had graced his body.

His member finally stopped growing. Tentatively, the green-skinned goddess reached out her hand to grasp it, then paused. She regarded the unexpected sight before her, then flicked his cock away with her finger, deftly avoiding its reach as it flopped back.

“Tell me, my pet,” Ivy said, regaining her composure. “Is this your first time?”

“No, Mistress,” Bruce answered. “I have had relations with others before.”

“I’m afraid you’re incorrect.” Her fingers slipped under his shirt again, appearing through the rips to pull the shirt off of him. The gloves, attached by a few threads to each wrist, came off with the shirt. 

“Yes, Mistress,” the former costumed-man replied. Aside from his black socks, he was completely naked before her. Exposed in more ways than one.

Ivy examined the Bat-symbol on the chest of the shirt in her hands, then dropped it onto the flower, which did not make it vanish. She looked down at his feet, a bemused expression on her face. A quick order later, those socks were gone.

“This is your first time, Bruce. No one has ever truly had sex until they have been with me. And you better believe me when I say that I know how to _fuck_.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” It was true. 

Should he, though?

“You must prove to me that I could not replace you with someone else; that if I gave another man this mask, he could not do what you can. If you can, I promise you that this will be the night of your life.” She traced her thumb down his stomach. “One night of many, that is.”

Bruce could hardly contain his excitement, except for the fact that he was no longer capable of expressing himself outwardly. So, really, he could contain his excitement, even if he didn’t feel that way.

 _Finally!_ he thought. Oddly, it occurred to him that this was his first genuine thought in quite a few minutes. What was so odd about that? It was just… something about the situation that was keeping him from his calm.

Poison Ivy’s brow creased. “Interesting. Even now, you’re still trying to resist. I didn’t think this possible.”

“I- I don’t-” Bruce looked down at himself. What was he doing standing naked again? “What’s happening?” He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to be arresting her or not.

She stood there contemplative. Shrugging, she lowered both of her hands to her waist, grasped the vines that surrounded her, and pulled them apart to reveal what lay beneath.

Bruce started again. He stared into her pussy, lips parted like her vines and leaves. It glistened with a reddish complexion, a glint from the lights above making it sparkle in a special pattern. It developed its own halo from the reflection, displaying all of the colors of the rainbow in a tiny drop that fell from her folds and onto the Batsuit beneath her. 

“There. That’s better, isn’t it,” Ivy cooed.

He didn’t respond, too fixated on her figure. He stared with unashamed wonder and desire as she roved her own hands over her body. Five fingers scrunched her left breast while her other five trailed diagonally beneath her chest. Each of them came to meet, squishing a single breast to shove out her nipple toward him, prodding him to take just a little taste.

“You want to be with me, don’t you?” Ivy asked.

Popping out of his trance, Bruce fixed his gaze upon her enchanting eyes. “I need-” His eye twitched, his voice breaking monotone and growing louder. “I… need… I-I… I need…”

“Yes, my pet. You do need.” She moved her hands to her sides, slinking forward briskly until she met him face-to-face. Finally, she grabbed him close and kissed him, passionately moaning against his quivering lips. The taste of the lipstick returned to his tongue, making the decision instantly and abundantly obvious.

He kissed back, cupping her just above the hips and holding tight. Bruce’s cock slipped along her waist, getting shifted upward like a lightning rod as it was squeezed between their bodies. Warmth in a few drops of liquid treated each of their navels, the precum being spread out as their mutual embrace compressed closer and closer. 

Whatever reservations he had held before puffed away like a vapor in the breeze. Her touch made everything better.

Ivy continued her tongue’s assault on his gums, finding his own tongue to be unable to keep up. Each breath Bruce took was of her, drinking in the pheromones until he was inhaling through ragged pants. 

She pushed him, not breaking lip or tongue contact for very long as the two of them stumbled into the center of the pistil, right beside what remained of his costume. Neither one of them sank into the soft substance, but it was still more plush than any bed Bruce had slept in before.

Ivy’s perfect breasts crashed into his chest, cushioning her fall and allowing her to comfortably remain in contact with his lips. The cock that had previously been held by two sets of ribs was now sealed in the slot between two green ass cheeks. She settled back with each one, grinding both rhythmically for a short period.

As Bruce fought to raise his head to fight off her conquering lips, she firmly pressed her lips hard against his, knocking his cranium back into the pistil and continuing to exercise her dominance over his mouth. Uncertainly, he shifted his head from one side to the other, trying to slip out.

Her heated furor aroused him; it was not often that he found himself losing any battle, so it made the occasion feel even more special. Though, of course, he was holding back for the sake of his mistress.

Following a particularly aggressive bout of lip-shoving, Ivy finally showed mercy, tilting her head down a slight degree and raising it a short distance from his as they both recovered their breath. Her forehead was less than an inch from his mouth.

Ivy raised her head, staring playfully at him. “You’re good, but I’m still not convinced.” Her hand trailed up his shoulder to the collarbone. “Prove to me that you are indeed the best.” She resumed grinding her ass backward onto his cock. He wasn’t familiar with her manner of working, but he was absolutely in no mood to complain about it.

Well, it was what she asked for.

Grunting, Bruce grabbed her behind the shoulders and pulled her down to his lips again, indulging once more in the enchanting taste. Ivy seemed to have expected this, as she very quickly compensated her posture to continue the ass-job. Her sweetened lips were quickly attacked before he abandoned them, instead focusing his attention in a wide circle around her jawline. Several kisses and suckles braced against her chin and beyond. Ivy moaned and chuckled softly, her red hair tickling him.

Suddenly, her hands came up between their chests and she shoved him down. Both hands drifted to his biceps, pinning him in place as she scooted forward. Most of her weight settled onto his chest, a small amount of fluid dribbling into the small hairs of his body. Hungry, Ivy latched onto his ear with her teeth, wiggling her lips around the lobe.

Bruce folded his arms inward at the elbow, tossing aside her loosened grip on his deltoids so that he could reach down and hold her by the flare of her hips. Keeping her steady, the next thing he did was slide his tongue to the base of her head. Sensing her lips still hovering around his ear, he shifted his mouth down, working lower on her shoulder before discovering the upper reaches of her chest.

Ivy gasped and lost her grip on his ear, finally having been bested. She surrendered her collar and chest to his expert advances, leaning back and lifting her chin up to rest on top of his scalp. Still, she managed to bring one of her hands back in a distracted manner to his cock. Gently, she squeezed the tip.

The former caped crusader slathered her upper chest with wet kisses until he felt her other hand press against the back of his neck, demanding more from him. The hand around his cock picked up the pace of the minimally focused squeezing and slapping. 

Bruce dared further down her chest, finding nature’s most benevolent gifts in her two tits. The flesh felt like it was slightly attracted to his cheek, sticking to it like a magnet as he worked his way toward her right nipple. The suppleness and softness of her curves rivaled that of the pistil beneath their grinding bodies, making him feel like he was drowning in absolute bliss. If the touch of her hand was electrifying, he had no idea how to characterize the texture of her breasts.

Ivy moaned even louder as he finally found the nipple (it had taken him a while after he had closed his eyes from total pleasured-blindness, and he hadn’t exactly felt any pressure to find it hastily). The peak was the most resistant part about her, giving his tongue no new ventures beyond its surface. Feeling the hand on the back of his neck compel him, Bruce’s teeth dug into the curvature of the darker colored blossom. It felt like biting into a gem, only tasting sweeter by leaps and bounds. Her drained gasp afterward indicated an even greater shudder of pleasure coursing through her body.

Meanwhile, Bruce was simply put the happiest man in the world. Giving her a sense of pleasure only magnified his. Soon, it became overwhelming. The heat from her passion, the taste of her breasts, the softness of her figure, the hand gently caressing his neck and the fingers firmly pulling on his shaft became points of mounting thrill and delight, building and building alongside his impending…

He exploded. Shivering despite the warmth in his embrace, his cock plied up before shooting out his cum. It came out with his shouting announcement, yelling through teeth clamped around that nipple and tongue vibrating around the bud. It shot up through the air, and although he was unable to determine its exact arc, he could feel it splash off of Ivy’s bottom onto his lower abdomen.

This was who he was. Stripped bare, no more masks.

Breathing out, he came down from the dizzying highs. Bruce was careful not to disturb her as he slumped back down. His gaze momentarily slipped to the side before Ivy planted a tender kiss on his upturned cheek. Incensed- both by a hand pulling him back and by the need for another taste- Bruce turned back find himself lost in another kiss. 

“Better,” Ivy breathed, breaking the long kiss. “The few men before you could never have gotten past my lips, but you still haven’t shown me enough.”

Bruce said nothing, ashamed to have disappointed his mistress. For all of his training, nothing could have ever prepared him for her. In more ways than one, she was his master.

“I will give you one more chance, my pet,” she said, rubbing his forehead and running her hand through his hair. “I need you to do your best here; prove you are truly worthy of my touch.” She stroked his cock, then paused, noting its quick return to full mast. She looked over to the petal on her right- the one with the pocket with the lipstick in it- then looked back at him.

A smile found its way back to her beautiful face. “I have enjoyed your touch, but you have given me little so far.” She punctuated the word “little” with a quick squeeze. “No holding back. Show me what you can do, and I will show you what I can do.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Bruce replied in the now automatic monotone, eager to bring her pleasure once more. A quick glance down at her neck showed a fierce tightening; clearly, she was anxious as well.

She let out a half-moan, half-chuckle, then leaned back. She withdrew from his chest and settled back onto his lab, her fabulous ass pressing his cock against his own thighs. “Have at it, then.”

Keeping eye contact, Bruce sat up to meet her at her level, Ivy’s eyes encouraging him with a single blink. He licked his lips, then leaned down once more into the depths of her cleavage. He reverently kissed the inner part of her right breast where he had started before, digging deep into the mound with his chin. With an inhale through his nose, he vacuumed some of the flesh toward his nostrils. 

Ivy hopped up in his lap so that she moved her chest closer to his reach. Appreciative, he snaked a hand around her side to pinch her open breast with three stable fingers. His hand then opened to palm the underside of the massive marvel, cupping so that he could kiss it for the first time.

And that was where his gentleman motions ended.

With the mission fresh in his mind, he parted both tits so that he could line the cavity between them with fresh kisses. Those kisses led a trail down her midriff, where he began circling around her entire torso with his attentions. Back up to her breasts, he dipped his tongue to sample both nipples, contrasting their shapes and tastes. Back and forth, he attacked both with the innermost portions of his mouth that he could summon.

While he was enjoying the taste, Ivy was enjoying the touch, evident by her moans and her minute shivers. She grabbed his shoulders for support as she flopped her legs out to the sides. Bruce felt her long legs envelop his waist, pulling him ever closer so that they became one.

The billionaire relaxed his efforts after finding one of her legs having gone loose. He looked down to his side and discovered Ivy’s bent knee sitting directly in front of his face. Sensing her desire, he nudged himself to the side, bringing his head close enough to leg to give it the same treatment he had given her breasts. Incidentally, his cock slipped out from under her as he shifted, sliding up along the curvature of her ass as it smacked the underside of her open knee. He groaned when she pulled her leg below the knee in, squeezing the half of the cock embedded there.

She cocked her head. _Don’t stop,_ the expression on her face said. His member ached caught in her trap… a challenge of sorts.

Leaning in against the discomfort, Bruce kissed her thigh, finding it to be firm and clean. He hadn’t expected anything less than such glorious perfection.

Ivy purred, encouraging him to go further. He happily obliged, kissing higher up the leg as he found the most compact and attractive thigh there had ever been. It was gooey, yet it was resisting his light kisses by preventing his incursions. Higher and higher up the leg as her leg simultaneously pumped the upper half of his cock.

Then he found her pussy.

Face-to-face with it, it suddenly became incredibly difficult not to cum right away. A sniff revealed a scent just as strong as the succulent’s, only instead of putting him at peace, it made him more aroused.

Ivy sensed his arousal grow, responding by lowering one of her hands, gripping his cock by the head, and dragging it out from under her leg so that it rested on top of her thigh and between it and her side. 

Unhelpful, as it further distracted him and made it all the more uncomfortable for him to lean forward to be near it with his cock at her hip. Already, he could feel himself getting ready to lose it again.

No. He would not fail her again! He would prove himself to her if it was the last thing he did.

Bruce surged forward, keeping his back as rigid as possible so that he didn’t sacrifice too much balance. He landed with a chin at the bottom of her folds, getting wet from the liquids still dripping out. Ignoring the pain in his spine and the pleasure in his… everything… Bruce began to suckle.

Ivy’s reaction was immediate, arching her back and splaying her legs out, inviting him to go farther. This quickly freed Bruce’s cock from her grip, and with it, his reason to continue gracelessly sitting like that. 

Carefully setting her down on her back and shoulders, Bruce got out of his seated position and kneeled between her open legs. She dug her heels into his sides, then straddled it, sidling both legs around one another.

Bruce felt her legs set his nerves ablaze, but he fought through it to lower his head back down to the wet slit opening up to him. The split in the skin welcomed his mouth once more, letting him go deeper as Ivy’s legs brushed against his shoulders and found a lock around his head and neck. 

Ivy clearly had no further interest in his cock at this time, electing to allow him free reign of their encounter. Still, it wasn’t as if he was now impervious to the arousal that plagued his mind.

He found himself racing against the clock, licking and biting at various points around her walls to elicit the loudest reactions from her, adapting to locate the points where she felt it the most. He couldn’t hold out much longer.

Her moans were driving him crazy, as did the taste of her spilling fluids. He found himself lost in a deepening river of liquids as he worked, his cock slipping below into the softness of the pistil. His cock sank a few inches, but not nearly enough to concern him.

The noises that Ivy made grew more pronounced. They signaled an approaching climax. 

He would not fail her. He would not!

He was about to-

_I won’t!_

With an airy shout, Ivy announced her orgasm, convulsing and pulsing. More liquids splashed against his face as Bruce continued his trek upstream. He wanted to continue through her climax, making sure she was as pleased as possible.

And the mere thought of having pleased his mistress in such a way filled him with the most intense euphoria he had ever felt, instantly making him orgasm with a screaming finish into her pussy. His load was shot right into the pistil, and like most flowers would (he assumed), it absorbed the liquids the two of them had spilled into its own body.

Exhausted, Bruce crawled away from her legs as they found new supports from the pistil, conveniently propping her as she recovered. He crawled further up the flower, collapsing onto his front by one of the petals. He’d come up to Ivy’s head’s level, hoping to help her through her post-climax tremors.

She noticed, eyeing him and bringing to back of her hand to a rest on his cheek. She patted him fondly. “Well done, my pet,” she whispered. “Well done.”

Feeling happy, Bruce turned over onto his back and looked up at the strange lights on the ceiling. It was simply the greatest delight he had ever felt having made the greatest achievement of his life.

Following a few moments of comfortable silence, Ivy slithered over to his side and reassumed her position atop him. She placed her thumb on the corner of his mouth, twirling it in circles. “Truly wonderful. You should feel proud.”

And he did. “Yes, Mistress,” he said softly. 

She kissed him lightly, pulling back before too long. Their lips broke with a muted smack, leaving him to stare up at her with glazed eyes. He could just stare at her forever.

Ivy took note of his cock softening beneath her, not immediately springing back to life like it had earlier. Bruce did not know how long ago that had been.

“I promised you I would show you what I could do,” Ivy whispered. She reached up to the petal behind them and retrieved her lipstick from the pocket of the mesh. 

Bruce noticed for the first time that the tube she held had a cap on one side, opposite to the hole that required twisting to remove the stick of paint. Pinched between two fingers, the cap came off, revealing a different stick to the one she had used earlier. This one was colored pink rather than red and was apparently fresher than the other one. This one had not seen much use.

The green goddess applied this new pink substance to her lips in small amounts, only giving one coat to the sheen of pink. The nub then disappeared behind the silver cap when she finished.

Ivy carefully replaced the tube back in its pocket. Smiling, she leaned in to kiss him deeply. The taste of this new lipstick was both bitter and sweet, but he would never be able to say the taste was anything other than spectacular when it was her who used it.

As she pulled back, she put a hand on his chest, looking to be passing in a distinct level of concentration. After a few seconds, she kissed him again, though not for as long as she had a moment before.

Abruptly, Bruce felt a stirring down by his cock. With utter surprise, he looked down at it, finding it to be slowly returning to its full strength.

“I can do a whole lot for you, my pet,” Ivy announced. “This lipstick, for example, can get you hard for hours at time. Perfect for when you have the time.” She scooted back, reaching his full-length mast that had grown in under five seconds. “I can also do this.”

She jumped up and landed impaled on his cock.

Bruce sat up and gasped in complete pleasure, barely choking back his screams. His head met Ivy’s, who caught him expertly in a quick kiss before she shoved him back down. His mouth wasn’t working with such unbridled bliss.

He looked down to find his cock, but it was totally lost to the absolute tightest pussy on the planet. A length greater than a foot swallowed up in one rapid descent.

She hopped forward, holding herself up so that her breasts were held below his neck. Bruce then noticed that her muscles had gone taut, but Ivy was holding still to relax them. Clearly, she was paying for such a quick decision.

Slowly, she built her way back to a reassuring smile. “Now prepare for the best fuck in the world.”

All ten of her fingers stabbed their nails into his shoulders, clawing still as she began her gallop atop his unmoving body. He couldn’t possibly move, only being able to groan and yell in response to the overwhelming sensation of never-ending pleasure coming from his cock. She rode him roughly, barely allowing him any moments to breath before her weight crashed down against his front. Her hair was displaced in all directions, her breasts bouncing and softly impacting against his face. 

“Don’t just sit there!” Ivy screamed senselessly. How could she even form a coherent thought with all those wild motions?

Bruce ultimately found the ability to react beyond his grunting. His arms having been sapped of life, he just barely managed to drape them over her back, locking his fingers to just keep with her rhythm. His grip wasn’t very secure, though, as her bucking and humping brought the hands to her ass. Frantic, Bruce grabbed hold of both of the mounds there, squeezing tight just to feel something. Needless to say, it was a wonderful feeling.

Though it was a complete accident, this seemed to have been the right course of action. Her moans of approval resonated deep in his core, greatly diminishing his ability to resist going right away. Feeling emboldened, Bruce shifted his center of mass further down her body so that he could rock his hips in tune with her jumps. They were both panting before long.

It took only a few more pumps before he came, shouting it in a voice that had long since gone ragged. Deep inside of her, his orgasm shot off an unending series of semen. Rocking her hips faster to keep him going, he came for almost a half-minute before finally- mercifully- it ended. He fell down to the pistil in a sweating mess, hands struggling to keep contact with her beautiful ass.

He thought that he would be done entirely after that, but he unbelievably still felt his cock to be as hard as ever. Bruce had no idea how such miracles could have occurred through the simple intake of a pink lipstick, but Ivy’s promises were definitely not tall tales. He had never come so early in his life.

Ivy got a dark look in her eyes, one of an insatiable hunger. “You’ve only had a crumb of one I can give you. I’m far from done, and from the looks of it, so are you, my pet.”

Bruce said nothing, still recovering from his crisply intoxicating orgasm.

“The best fuck in the world, indeed. Nobody’s coming back to the bank until Monday; we have all weekend.” She stroked his cheek fondly. “I have such plans for you.”

And she began to gallop again.

\-------------------------------------------

This was not the last night in which Poison Ivy and her new pet engaged in rampant fucking, but this was the first. Significantly, it was the night that the Batman, crusader of justice, had officially died, lost forever to the lusts and loves he felt for his mistress.

The two of them lived only to please the other, continuing their sex until the effects of the lipstick wore off and Ivy had orgasmed a few times herself. Not nearly as many as the man formerly known as Bruce Wayne had climaxed, but still a fair amount of them.

They slept in the vault, the flower petals closing around them to provide adequate shade and the Batsuit being used as a blanket. It had a few stains on its front by the time they had woken up, apparently from his dreams of her. They lived on fresh vegetables from the garden, and when Ivy decided to have some more fun, she grabbed her tube of lipstick.

On Monday morning at 7:00 A.M., the bank manager arrived to discover the several shattered windows and damaged property, but he found nothing stolen that he could see. He checked the vault, opening it to discover a still-fucking pair of bodies on the giant flower in the center of the large garden. Completely in the thrall of Ivy’s control at the influence of her pheromones, the bank manager opted to close the vault and the bank for the rest of the day. The patrons who arrived had no idea why.

Later that night, the manager of Gotham First National Bank returned to open the vault at Ivy’s behest, then entered the vault to live out his final few minutes before the giant pistil swallowed him whole. Ivy exited wearing her standard set of sparse leaves, her pet in tow wearing the Batsuit. Later at Wayne Manor, they wore nothing.

That morning, the two of them discovered the corpse of Alfred Pennyworth, who had apparently shot himself in the head in the Batcave, clutching a picture of the Wayne family in one hand and a small pistol in the other. The late butler’s master felt nothing at the sight of him, under Ivy’s spell. They even fucked a few minutes later in the cave, the body not twenty feet away.

Gotham had thought its hero dead, but he returned a week after his venture into the bank to rob a different building; he stole a few plant samples from ACE Chemicals that his mistress had ordered him to retrieve. His reward more than made up for the trek.

With those plants, Ivy managed to increase both her control and her power over nature. She concocted a new spore that could make her pet capable of surviving any poison, and a second spore that could poison any other human. When she was ready, she unleashed them onto the city, toxic spores flying from the coast to the bridge. Millions were killed in just the first few minutes, Gotham City caught completely off guard and without its hero to save them.

No, their hero returned as their conqueror, bearing a new, greener outfit and calling himself only by the name Ivy gave him: pet. Those who survived by fleeing to the underground were hunted down and killed. Gotham City was completely destroyed in less than a day.

Out of the ashes came plant life, burgeoning to create a new Gotham. The contents of the bank vault when she had prepared for her encounter with the Batman had only a fraction of the beauty that Ivy created over the miles of the now empty land. Though the government had labeled the destruction of Gotham a disaster, there was no explanation for the sudden surge of green in the city.

Ivy’s power grew with an entire city that was under her thumb. The magnitude of her reach and abilities became so great that she was able to disperse the same toxins all over North America. In six hours, the United States became completely inhospitable to human life. Those who had fled underground were not safe from the forest that encompassed the land that had once been their homes.

The leaders of other countries desperately made contact with Ivy to try to stop her from doing the same to the entire planet. She ignored them.

Mass evacuations began, worldwide pleas were made, threats of nuclear retaliation. Four countries elected to launch their missiles at what had once been Gotham City, but Ivy’s pet shot them out of the atmosphere with the Batplane.

Ivy showed no mercy to mankind, just as they had shown no mercy to the Earth. The toxic spores spread to the rest of the world, killing most of the men and women with ease in two days. Though most species of land animals had survived the purge of humanity, trees grew foods that were poisonous to men. The survivors fell with foaming mouths.

The Earth became a prosperous set of forests and gardens. Ivy dispatched her pet to hunt down the remaining humans that had evacuated to the Arctic zones in search of safety; he found less than five thousand people alive in a shambling colony. They died when he bombed the ice beneath them.

Five days later, the last human in the world was the former Batman. He returned from the Arctic to find an even more beautiful place than when he had left. Ivy welcomed him with open arms and open folds. The two of them celebrated her victory with their best sex yet.

Nine months later, Ivy bore their first child together, daughter of a goddess and the last man to ever walk the Earth. To Ivy, she was her most precious baby, as she was intelligent and one with nature at birth. Her second child came a year later, another daughter with the same qualities as her first. Then, another year later, a boy was born. 

Though Ivy had long planned to kill her pet once she had ensured that she had created a new race that could sustain itself, she had grown fond of the former Batman in their three years together. She kept him alive, but she decided to stop having children; what need was there when the children they had already had could take care of the planet already? Plus, she lost time she could be using fucking her pet when she was too pregnant.

And that was how they spent the rest of their lives. Their mornings consisted of fucking, as did their afternoons, and their evenings, and sometimes their nights. The Batman had long since been ended, but the man who had stepped out of his ashes became the last living human and the most sexually gratified man who had ever lived.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has previously appeared on another site. I claim sole responsibility as author of this piece and the other site's piece.


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